


Make a home down there

by brittlestars



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: 90:10 fluff:angst ratio, Gen, Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson at Columbia, Mild Hurt/Comfort, overprotective prank war as an expression of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21612133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittlestars/pseuds/brittlestars
Summary: "I never knew I wanted a fleet of guardian dinosaurs until I met you, Matty."
Relationships: pre-Matt Murdock/Foggy Nelson
Comments: 13
Kudos: 102
Collections: Daredevil Bingo





	Make a home down there

"You look like shit."

After a pause, Foggy's new roommate shook his head, tiniest smile of wry bemusement on his lips. It was like the guy wasn't used to talking so much. Too bad, Foggy thought. If they were going to live together, blunt conversation was going to be a thing.

"I haven't been sleeping well," Matt demurred. 

"I hope I'm not snoring."

Matt shook his head. "It's not that."

"—'Cuz my sister always complained that I snore. Mom said she was making it up to tease me but..."

"It's not the snoring, Foggy," Matt repeated. "It's nothing you're doing. It's just—" he paused, falling still for a second before sliding off his mattress and turning to kneel at the edge of his bed. 

Foggy stood abruptly, taking this as his cue to leave the room in case Matt needed privacy for praying... or something. He didn't really yet understand how the Catholicism worked but over the past month he'd seen Matt with a rosary sometimes, and he would try to be as polite as he could. Mama might have raised an agnostic, but she raised a kind one. 

But as Foggy shuffled through the narrow space between their beds, Matt reached out, groping for Foggy's wrist. "Here, give me a hand," he said. 

Foggy paused, then shrugged to himself. He might not be a much of a praying person, but if Matt needed help the least he could do was pause on his knees for a minute or two. Might be a good chance to reset mentally. This was also the first time Matt had voluntary touched Foggy, which Foggy definitely took as a win. 

But as Matt turned back to the bed he wasn't clasping his palms flat together. Instead, his fingers sought the edge of the cheap foam mattress, sliding underneath. He tilted the mattress up and then turned in Foggy's general direction. As always, his eyes were unfocused, but the quiet, childlike expectancy on his face stirred Foggy's heart. Matt usually wore sunglasses, even indoors. Without them, Matt's face seemed oddly open, unshielded. 

After a beat, Matt prompted, "Well? Anything there?"

Foggy blinked, finally looking away from clean curves and planes of Matt's face to the shadowy recesses under the mattress. He brushed a stray fold of the bedspread aside - silk, go figure - and gasped lightly. 

Then he fell back, his ass on the floor and chest erupting in laughter. 

Matt cocked his head in that adorable way he had. "What?"

Foggy had tears in the corners of his eyes. Gasping for air, he clapped Matt on the shoulder. Matt startled at the gesture, which sobered Foggy a bit. He was still getting used to having to verbally telegraph his touches. 

Matt began lowering the mattress, turning more fully toward him. "Foggy..."

"Sorry, it's just... Here, see for yourself." Foggy yanked up the mattress with one hand and guided Matt's wrist with the other. For a split second Matt tensed, not used to being touched so casually, and without permission. But it was Foggy, and though he'd only known Foggy for a few weeks, Foggy was Safe. Intrinsically, inherently so. 

Foggy didn't seem to notice Matt's moment of hesitation, instead rearranging his lean past Matt's chest to guide Matt's hand to the small object caught between the metal coils of the dorm bed's boxspring.

Despite initial appearances, the item under the mattress was, in fact, not a pea. It was a smallish lump of green plastic molded in the vague shape of a lopsided egg. A dinosaur egg, to be precise, with a tiny triceratops headed peering through a sculpted crack in the plastic.

"A tiny plastic pea under your mattress was enough to keep you awake." Foggy laughed and laughed, finally gasping out, "I'm gonna nickname you Princess just for this. Shall I call down to the RA, ask them to summon only the fluffiest of pillows for your Highness?"

"I don't need luxury," Matt snapped. "I grew up in a convent."

Foggy's face fell. He mentally kicked himself even as a flare of protectiveness swelled in his heart. Matt deserved good things, despite having convinced himself he didn't. Maybe Matt's sparse upbringing explained part of his self-debasing streak. 

Matt had gone rigid, stock-still with a white-knuckle grasp on the toy in his hands. It was like Matt had realized he'd let slip too much, like he was gearing up to run - or maybe to fight. 

But Foggy was Foggy, and Foggy wasn't about to let things get weird between them because of something out of Matt's control, like a rough childhood.

"Don't worry, buddy, your secret is safe with me," Foggy assured. Matt's posture didn't change, though his face might have relaxed a tad. Foggy couldn't even see him breathing. "I won't tell anybody you live a double life as a nun."

Finally, Matt sputtered. Foggy felt himself breathing at the sight. 

"And I certainly won't let slip the little fact that you're mixing silk and artificial fabrics, carnal sin that that is, you hedonist."

Matt turned an even paler shade of pale. Foggy swallowed. Was pushing religion too far? He hoped not. Curse him for falling back on banter. Now Matt would want a new roommate, a roommate who wasn't Foggy, and life would got back to being boring. Life would be the same as a month ago, but somehow, Foggy was sure, without Matt the world would look as if the light had drained from everything.

But then Matt laughed. Hesitantly at first, then deep and rich. For Foggy, the sound breathed even more color, even more light in the small, shared space of their room. 

"Please don't tell the nuns," Matt slid to the floor, leaning his shoulder into Foggy. "They'll never let me live it down."

"I got you. And I'll keep an eye out for any more dinosaur traps they try to spring on you."

Matt turned the tiny piece of plastic over in his hands, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes. "Yea," he sighed. "You do that."

Ten days later, Foggy attempted to drink quietly from his coffee while surveying the homework that spilled across his desk and onto his bed. He'd not had much practice at silent slurping, but ever since noticing Matt's cringe he'd been trying to be quieter when eating and drinking. Less slurp, more sip. The fancy paper to-go cup made it more difficult, as did the scalding temperature. 

Matt had declined Foggy's offer to bring him coffee (did the guy ever eat out, even just coffee?), but when Foggy returned to their dorm room, Matt perked up. Foggy could actually see him inhale. Foggy congratulated himself on following through with his hunch: it seemed that all it took to get through to Matt's taste buds was snobby rich-people coffee. 

"Ugh, fine, you can try some," Foggy conceded, tapping Matt's elbow with the cup. 

"What? I didn't ask."

"You don't have to; it's written all over your beautiful face." He tapped Matt's elbow again. 

Matt turned. Foggy deposited the cup in Matt's hand even as he whined, "Really, it's okay. You don't have to."

"Don't have to, but I can. Be careful, it's hot."

Matt held the cup under his nose, looking all the world like he was drowning in the aroma with closed eyes. But then, his eyes were closed at the weirdest times anyhow, so Foggy couldn't be sure. 

Before taking a sip, Matt tilted his head as if remembering something. "Foggy, did you write down the due date for the Landman & Zack internship application? I made a note for myself but can't seem to..."

"Oh, lemme check." Foggy reached into his shoulder bag, shuffling around in the barely-contained mess. I had to be in there somewhere. When he finally looked up again, triumphant with the paper in his hand, Matt had set the coffee mug down and was sliding his desk drawer shut. 

"Nevermind," Matt said, "I remembered. So silly of me."

"Riiiight."

"Thank you for the coffee."

Foggy reclaimed the cup. It was still full. "Did you even drink any? Or can you live on smells alone?"

Matt shrugged and turned back to his desk without a word. Smug bastard probably thought being mysterious was attractive. It was, but still. 

"No wonder you're so skinny," Foggy grumbled, waving a hand he knew Matt couldn't see. "Living off the aether."

"You like it," Matt said, not looking up. 

Foggy sputtered into the coffee at his lips. Suddenly scalded by a splash of the steaming hot liquid, he jerked his head back and, great, now there was coffee spilled down the front of his jacket. 

Thank _God_ Matt couldn't see him blushing from some combination of shame and maybe just a tad of nervous excitement. They'd been roommates for a while now and this was not the first sneaky comment Foggy had heard slip through Murdock's beautiful lips. For example, it was not the first time Matt had said something maybe-possibly-slightly flirtatious to Foggy, nor was it the first time Matt had said something in Foggy's presence that was clearly flirtatious but with only a vague sense of Foggy-as-target.

But it was the first time Matt had said something unambiguously flirtatious aimed directly at Foggy. Despite Matt's even, matter-of-fact tone, the only response that came to Foggy's racing mind was: I am dripping the borough's most expensive coffee on the carpet. 

"Excuse me," he groaned, ducking over to the sink to attempt to mop off the worst of the spill. When reaching to rinse out the wet rag, he accidentally nudged the coffee cup and it tipped into the sink. Okay, so maybe his nerves were shot owing to Matt's recognition of Foggy's burgeoning feelings. 

"Stupid coffee," Foggy muttered under his breath. "Stupid Matt. Stupid, beautiful face."

"You okay over there?" Matt called. The room wasn't that big; he must have heard the cup spill.

"Just five bucks down the drain—" Foggy began before pausing. Then, "Matt!"

Matt finally set down his reading and turned toward Foggy, who was holding up a fist triumphantly. 

"I'm holding up my fist triumphantly."

Matt arched a brow. 

Foggy stalked forward. "Hold out your hand."

Matt, bless him, did as he was told with no hesitation. A hint of a sly smile, yes, but no hesitation. Foggy deposited a wet lump of plastic in Matt's hand. The material was warm and just a bit soft. Matt curled his fingers around it. Four thin protrusions, arranged like legs, various bumps and spikes... 

"It's a dinosaur, Matt." Foggy pulled Matt's other hand over, guided it along the shape of the miniature _Apatosaurus_. Foggy's fingers are also warm. "It was hiding in wait in my coffee."

"Nobody expects a coffee-flavored ambush."

"Exactly!" Foggy crowed, finally letting go of Matt's hands to wave a sweeping gesture across their tiny dorm room. "Who knows how many are out there. Sneaky. Coordinated. Camouflaged. " 

Matt smirked, like he might have exactly an idea of how many tiny dinosaurs were 'out there.' "I thought you said the carpet was purple. Are the dinosaurs purple to blend?"

"They could be," Foggy hedged. "It's not like you'd ever know."

"It's not just me. Nobody actually knows what color dinosaurs were. Scientists only sorta recently figured out that they had feathers."

"Then you won't mind when I repaint yours so our sets will be color-coordinated." Foggy was no intellectual slouch: it was clear they would both have a set of dinosaur toys before long.

"By all means, Foggy, go ahead."

"Tonight, after contract law."

"Enjoy."

"Oh no, buddy. You're not getting out of mandatory roommate time."

A tiny smile creased one corner of Matt's lip. Foggy counted it as a win. 

Matt actually had incredibly steady hands, dipping the tip of the thinnest paintbrush into whatever color paint Foggy passed him. Foggy had opted for the most garish, neon colors he could get on sale at the local hobby shop.

"Speaking of new discoveries, this color is, uh... octarine."

Matt paused, brush suspended mid-air. He didn't turn toward Foggy but he did arch the eyebrow on Foggy's side of his face.

"'Octarine?'"

"Yea, it's a new color. Discovered 'only sorta recently.' Shame, really, that you'll never be able see it."

"Please describe to me this octarine, in all its glory."

Foggy inhaled bracingly. "I'm not sure I'm up to this task, it really is an outrageous color. But I'll do my best, only for you, buddy. A greenish yellow-purple. Fluorescent."

Matt set down the dinosaur gently, centering it under the warmth of the desk lamp to dry. 

"How's it look?"

"Spotty."

"That was the point."

"Then you succee—hey, was that a pun? Ugh, Matthew!" Foggy threw a wadded ball of paper towel at Matt's head. It bounced off the corner of his glasses, skewing them. "Oops! Sorry there." Without hesitation, Foggy reached up and righted the glasses for Matt. 

Foggy didn't lean out of Matt's space, and Matt didn't lean back, either. Instead, he reached up, took off the glasses, and set them on the desk next to the dinosaur. He tilted his face downward, rolling the paintbrush in his long, thick-knuckled fingers. 

"Mr. Pratchett would be proud," he murmured. 

Foggy smiled as the depths of his heart stirred, warm and fond. Of course Matt got the reference to a fantasy color. "That he would."

And if Matt had a touch of "octarine" paint there where his eyes creased when he smiled, well, Foggy wasn't going to mention it.

And thus began the dino wars, with Matt and Foggy hiding tiny dinosaurs for each other in increasing improbably locations. Foggy's favorite was to leave a new dinosaur out in the open in plain sight and see how long it took for Matt to notice. He was usually surprised.

At some point in the following two months, Matt hid a tiny dinosaur peaking over the ledge of the dorm room light, looking down at Foggy's desk. Foggy finally spotted it when casting his eyes to the heavens in desperation while writing yet another term paper. He wondered how Matt got the _Stegosaurus_ up there in the first place, tiny plastic head cocked at a jaunty angle. Then Foggy's brow creased with concern as he realized Matt must have climbed precariously on top of the bunk and then... then what, reached out into the blank space, groping for the light? Or else balanced on a chair? But their chairs had wheels. This was too far to go for what was supposed to be a harmless prank. What if Matt'd fallen?

"Tell me," he scolded Matt, "you had an accomplice in hiding the _Stegosaurus_."

Matt hummed noncommittally. 

"Matt. Matt. Matty," Foggy tried. 

"I had help," Matt finally admitted. 

"Thank goodness."

"—from my dinosaur friends!"

"When I said you needed to make friends, this isn't exactly what I meant."

Matt turned his face down toward his lap. His voice was soft. "You're my friend," he said. Sometimes, Foggy swore he was going to get whiplash from Matt's swings in mood. 

Foggy paused for a moment. He didn't know why it was so hard for Matt to admit to making friends, but he took the gesture, the effort, seriously. Whatever Matt had gone through to wind up a blind kid at a convent, it couldn't have been easy. "I know, buddy. I'm glad." His face split into a wide grin. "So far I had been collecting the dinosaurs on my desk, but I think I'll leave that guy up there. A reminder of the power of their dinosaur overlord, so to speak."

Matt turned his face vaguely toward the light, suddenly all devious mischief once again. He imitated a cartoon villain's voice: "I'll always be there for you. Waiting. Watching." At least, Foggy hoped it was cartoon villain's voice.

"That's kinda creepy," Foggy tried to instill a sense of worry into his own voice, but failed. It was mostly a tender fondness. 

"They'll be my eyes and ears." 

"So instead of a guardian angel, I've got a fleet of guardian dinosaurs?" 

Matt smirked. "Something like that."

"I never knew I wanted a fleet of guardian dinosaurs until I met you, Matty."

Matt swallowed, then pasted back on his grin, the one that Foggy was learning was a defensive tic. A charming smile, but shallow. "Stick with me, kid, and you'll learn all kinds of things."

"I think I will."

The light from the street lamp just outside their window never bothered Matt, of course, but on this particular Tuesday several months later it was keeping Foggy awake well after midnight. He grumbled mild invective, hauling himself out of bed after an annoyed several minutes of waffling over whether the effort was worth maybe getting to sleep some time this century. 

The blinds were askew, leaking a swath of orange light into the room, right across his pillow. No wonder it had been bothering him more than usual. 

Fumbling with the cord, Foggy spotted a pair of plastic pterodactyls perched on the dorm room windowsill. 

Specifically, perched on the _outside_ of the window, which was permanently locked, and also "We're on the fifth floor, Murdock!" he muttered under his breath before snapping the blinds shut and lumbering back to bed. He was too tired for this shit.

But he couldn't sleep; his brain was too busy interpreting the impossibility of dinos appearing outside the dorm room window as an act of war. He reached into his bedside drawer to summon the troops. And by 'troops,' he meant the crinkling plastic bag full of plastic dinosaurs he'd grabbed from his grandmother. The old biddy had sprung into haggle mode when she caught him raiding her box of his childhood keepsakes. She had insisted she would only relinquish the toys if agreed to visit more frequently 'and bring that roommate of yours you talk of so fondly!' Foggy had countered 'Only if you make the tea cakes with extra cinnamon.' Grams had acquiesced and they hunkered down to hash out a date for the visit in exchange for the surrender of the dinosaur troops. Arrangements finalized, they had shaken hands on the deal.

Foggy smiled at the memory. They were both Nelsons, the pair of them. 

Now fully awake and giddy with the nascent plan to escalate the dino wars, Foggy glanced at the flat lump in Matt's bed. He always slept on his back, looking rigid as a board, the weirdo. From what Foggy could tell, Matt's breathing was even and regular, so he decided to put his plan to action. 

Thanks to his grandmother's reinforcements, Foggy now had enough tiny plastic dinosaurs to form an arcing perimeter on the floor, enclosing Matt's bed against the far wall. 

Foggy paused in placing the last toy, a sail-backed pelycosaur. He ran his finger down the narrow ridge along the reptile's spine. How badly would the toy hurt to step on, unsuspecting? Matt trusted Foggy to keep the shared space of the dorm room in order. They'd never spoken of it explicitly, but as soon as Foggy had recognized Matt's bordering-on-compulsive neatness, he'd begun adjusting his own habits to accommodate. 

The plastic gave way under his fingers. It wasn't exactly a Lego brick. He tossed a glance to the window, where he couldn't see but could remember the pair of purple-spotted lime-green pterodactyl toys nestled into one another in the outside nook. That settled him. Matt was the one who'd elevated this prank to risk of mild bodily harm. Foggy was simply playing to that level. 

Still, as he reached to place the pelycosaur, Foggy couldn't stop himself from tilting it on its side, spinal fin tipped to the floor. Let it never be said that he wasn't looking out for Matt.

Foggy felt considerably less forgiving by the end of the week. Matt had somehow managed to step over the dinosaur blockade every time. For four days. And was it just Foggy's imagination, or did Matt have an increased air of smugness about him as the days wore on without a single stubbed toe or dino out of place, to Foggy's increasing astonishment? 

And then Foggy stumbled home late one night after post-mock-trial revelry at a dive bar. And then Foggy was the one to finally scatter the dinosaur army, cursing as the tiny plastic armor of an ankylosaur dug into the tender flesh of his foot. He tried to bite back a yelp, but it was too late to prevent his hobbling and muttering and cursing and fumbling in the 2:30 AM dark. 

Foggy cast his eyes to Matt's bed. Was Matt awake? He hoped not. It was a long day in moot and Matt didn't need the extra stress, especially when he refused to go out celebrating like a normal human being.

The next morning, Foggy groaned as he slowly clawed into consciousness. His head ached... and so did his foot? Foggy screwed his eyes shut tighter and willed the world to go away for a few more minutes.

Matt's voice was far too chipper for whatever time it was. "You sound ready to wave a white flag there, buddy."

"'m fine."

"Good, because we're going to see your grandmother in a few hours. Perhaps a shower...?"

Ugh. Curse Matt and his always being right. Foggy forced himself toward the edge of the bed, then hissed as his foot touched down on the floor. 

"Fog?" Matt asked from the direction of his desk. He was probably studying again, even at this stupidly early hour. 

"It's nothing," Foggy muttered. He reached up to turn on his bedside lamp. Sure enough, Matt was at his desk with a huge book. "I just tripped on something last night." Foggy though Matt looked entirely too smug, the bastard, but how could he know? He slept through the whole thing. 

"Here," Matt said, setting aside his textbook and scooting over his chair with hands outstretched. 

"Gonna kiss it better?" Foggy smirked, forgetting to filter himself. He was pretty hungover.

Matt paused, hands still in the air. "No..." 

Foggy scrambled to cover, heart racing. "Relax, Murdock. It was a joke." Then, when Matt continued that barest hint of a smile and left his hands upturned, he huffed. "Okay, fine, but no complaining about my stinky feet. You asked for it."

Matt's smile widened. He settled his hands over Foggy's foot on his knees, exceedingly gentle. "I know some pressure points," he explained. And then Matt proceeded to work what Foggy would only later be able to describe as magic. 

It wasn't a massage, precisely, but a sort of careful exploration and manipulation with the tips of Matt's clever and surprisingly strong fingers. Foggy leaned back on his bed and was halfway to sleep again. Matt continued in the silence, tireless and attentive.

"Hey, Matty..." Foggy's voice pitched higher when he was hungover and needy.

"Hey, Foggy."

Foggy rolled onto his stomach, looking up at Matt. "When we finally graduate and pass the bar, we're gonna use our dinosaur army powers for good, right?"

Matt smirked. "Sure."

"You-" Foggy yawned, tried again. "You gotta promise me, Matty. Only for good."

"I promise, Foggy."

Foggy hummed expectantly, so Matt sighed and finished, "I promise we'll use our powers for good."

"Yea," Foggy said, smiling. "Me too."

**Author's Note:**

> For the [Daredevil bingo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittlestars/profile#DD) prompt "tiny dinosaurs."


End file.
